


The things he does for love

by ChocoNut



Series: Many ways to say I love you [49]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 8x4 missing scene, F/M, Season 8, Sexy Fluff, post TBTWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 21:51:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19710133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Four times Brienne was miffed when asked if she'd wed Jaime, and the one time she wasn't...





	The things he does for love

**Author's Note:**

> Here comes fic # 49 in this Series. This had been lying in my folder for long, so I decided to go on and publish it.  
> As usual, this is un-beta'ed and English isn't my first language.

“Have you seen Jaime, Ser Brienne?”

Brienne jumped from her seat, her train of thought completely ruined by the unanticipated company she'd now be compelled to entertain. “Lord Tyrion,” she greeted him with a crisp nod.

“May I--” He pointed to the vacant chair in front of her.

“Please,” she offered, knowing his presence here wasn’t going to bode well for her.

“I was wondering if you might know where Jaime is,” Tyrion reiterated the purpose of his visit, fixing her with a look of suspicion, one that perhaps implied she had him hidden under her armour.

“I--” Brienne felt a surge of warmth creep up her neck at the mere mention of Jaime’s name. What was she to tell him? That she and Jaime had decided to maintain a low profile after a beautiful night together? That they’d thought it prudent to be discreet around everyone else for the time being at least? Judging by the looks most people gave her the moment she had entered the great hall, she’d surmised that a lot of them knew. That Jaime had rushed after her in his drunken state last night was no secret.

Seconds of deliberation later, she settled for a simple reply. “I don’t know.” 

Tyrion knitted his brows together in an expression of scrutiny, his intelligent green eyes piercing hers in his quest for the truth. “Really? I thought he was--”

“We’re not together all the time,” she mumbled, red-faced. “It was only--”

“Never mind,” Tyrion said with a shrug, “I came to meet you, not him.”

She waited for the oncoming storm to engulf her. And it came soon enough. “Sooo,” he dragged the word so much that it left her apprehensive, “are you in love with my brother?”

She coughed into her water. “I--”

“You are,” Tyrion answered his own question with a knowing smile and a vigorous nod, “and so is my idiot brother. He’s absolutely and completely smitten with you. Has he asked you to marry him?”

“He--" she stammered, once again scavenging her brain for non-existent words, “we haven’t spoken about anything yet,” she said, only now realizing that they hadn't confessed their feelings to each other yet.

“He hasn’t told you that he loves you?” Tyrion inquired, wide-eyed.

“No,” was the only response she had, the conversation leaving her increasingly embarrassed by the minute.

“Ah, the idiot!” he exclaimed, clicking his tongue in exasperation. “Don’t worry,” he went on to assure her, “he’ll soon open his mouth. He’s terrible at expressing such things. Cutting down an adversary is easy for him, telling the woman of his dreams that he loves her is not.”

+++++

“So,” Sansa began, lifting her gaze from the letter she’d just finished sealing, “How was it?”

Brienne was clueless for a moment, the vagueness of the question taking her by surprise. “How was what, my lady?”

Sansa’s lips formed a smile that implied she knew it all. “I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t,” Brienne lied to save herself the embarrassment for the second time that morning despite knowing full well what Sansa was hinting at.

“Have you seen Ser Jaime since morning?” Sansa asked, her expression innocent but her tone akin to Tyrion’s when he’d met her at breakfast.

Brienne could feel the hot flushes burning through every bit of her body. “How would I know where he is?”

“Hmm,” drawled Sansa, her expression brutally unbelieving.

Brienne decided that the safest thing for her was to divert their focus back to work. “My lady, about today’s meeting--”

But Sansa had no plans at all to oblige her, her personal life seemingly the girl’s primary topic of interest this morning. “Has Ser Jaime asked you to marry him?”

“What--no!” replied Brienne, shocked, wondering if she had accidentally run into Tyrion today.

“Has he told you that he loves you?” The same question again, and all Brienne could do was simply stare at her.

Sansa relentlessly continued her ruthless attack. “Have you told him that you love him, Lady Brienne?”

“My lady,” Brienne firmly cut in this time, “if we could move on to more important things, the details for your afternoon meeting…”

+++++

“Ser Brienne!”

The familiarly gruff voice behind her could mean no good for her, but Brienne couldn’t avoid him, for it was too late for her to sneak away. She turned and forced herself to smile at Tormund Giantsbane whose face lacked the usual enthusiasm it bore whenever he saw her.

“I hope you had a good time last night,” Brienne told him, unable to think of anything else to say.

“I’m _sure_ you had a good time last night,” he grunted, his surly expression and the disappointment in his eyes making his displeasure obvious, despite his effort to hide his feelings with a terrible attempt at what was supposed to be a smile.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Brienne tried to evade him, unwilling to answer the same set of awkward questions for the third time that day.

“Oh, you do know,” he said grudgingly, “I hope he gives you the happiness I never had the opportunity to shower you with,” he added, sounding sincere in his wish for her prosperity.

Brienne could only manage a watery smile in return and a flustered, “Thank you.”

“Has the Kingkiller asked you to marry him yet?”

+++++

“I’m happy for you, ser,” gushed Pod, beaming at her good-naturedly as he helped her take off her armour. The day had finally come to an end, and Brienne had retired to the safety of her chambers with no more people to answer to.

“Happy?” She failed to understand, hoping her squire too wasn’t one of those who’d launched a well-coordinated attack on her.

The boy gave her an indulgent smile. “You know what I mean,” he said, without getting into further details.

Despite the awkwardness of facing such questions, Brienne had to smile this time, the memory of last night filling her with happiness her heart had never known before. Jaime had said nothing, but his eyes spoke volumes, his touch telling her what he couldn’t manage with words, his kisses showing her the love he couldn’t express by any other means.

“You love him,” Pod remarked, “you did, right from the day you looked back at him when we rode away from King’s Landing.”

She sighed deeply, remembering every wordless glance she’d exchanged with Jaime, every tearful goodbye she’d bid him, each such instance making her wish she’d see him again despite knowing that the chances for it were near to none.

“Has he asked you to marry him?”

Brienne groaned. “Not you too, Pod,” she grumbled, “everyone I’ve met since morning has been asking me the same thing.”

Pod grinned wider as he continued working on her armour. “Because it’s the most logical thing to follow whatever happened between the two of you last night.”

Brienne blushed at the recollection. “He hasn’t said anything yet,” she confided in her squire and her most loyal friend, “I don’t even know if he intends to have a future with me.”

“He does,” Pod confidently assured her. “The way he looks at you, he wouldn’t let you out of his sight for even a second.”

When Brienne was quiet, he went on, “If I had even the slightest doubt about his intentions, I’d never have approved of him.”

“Have our roles reversed, Podrick Payne?” She had to smile at him. “You’re beginning to get protective of me now, are you?”

“I’m merely doing my duty.” Pod replied, the warmth in his cheerful face making her feel blessed for having the loyalty of a squire like him. “Ser Jaime loves you, I’m sure he--”

They were interrupted by a loud series of incessant knocks, and in came Jaime, when Pod opened the door to let him in.

“Ser Jaime,” Pod greeted him, hiding what was obviously a smile.

“Podrick,” Jaime acknowledged, looking over his shoulder to seek her eyes. “Ser Brienne,” he called out, his eyes twinkling mischievously when he flashed her a charming grin.

“Ser Jaime.” She nodded, heat spreading rapidly to her cheeks.

“Time for me to leave,” Pod announced, wasting no further time and making himself scarce.

Soon she was left alone with Jaime and her thundering heart. “Let me,” he offered, kneeling in front of her and helping her unfasten what was remaining of her armour.

“How was your day?” she asked, suddenly shy in his presence, knowing not what else to speak.

“Wonderful,” he cheerfully replied, “yours?”

“Not that great,” she truthfully admitted, “almost everyone I’ve met has been inquiring about my wedding, Tormund Giantsbane included. Pretty annoying, I must say.”

Jaime paused whatever he was doing and looked up at her. “Why does the prospect of marriage sound annoying to you?”

“Because they jumped to unnecessary conclusions,” she complained. “They thought you’d asked me to marry you last night.”

He sighed heavily. “I hardly blame them for thinking so.”

“But you--”

“My lady,” he sounded slightly apologetic this time, “I’m sorry they got there before I could, I should’ve acted sooner. It is purely my fault I said nothing last night. I got carried away with my desire for you, my unfortunate incapability to speak my heart also playing its part in my lack of words last night.”

She hoped he’d speak more clearly. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’m asking you to marry me,” Jaime clarified, gently caressing her knee, sending little waves of shock through her with his touch.

“You don’t have to do this because everyone expects it of you,” she hurriedly stopped him.

“Brienne,” he started, getting up to take a seat beside her on the bed, “you’ve known me for years. Am I someone who does something because people expect it of me?”

“No, but--”

He kissed her before she could say anything else, and it took her a great deal of effort not to swoon in his arms, the magic of his lips leaving her nearly as intoxicated as the Dornish wine that had brought about their unbelievably heavenly union last night.

“How in the name of the seven did you, of all the people in this world, misunderstand me?” he asked, affectionately running his fingers through her hair.

“I just didn’t want you to act under pressure,” she honestly told him.

Jaime took her hand in his. “I’ve had a bad reputation in the past, but I’d never kiss a woman I’m not in love with, let alone make love to her.”

“I know, Jaime,” she said, smiling shyly, “I knew it last night. I never once doubted you. I just didn’t want you to succumb to any obligation--”

“Marrying you is not an obligation,” he gently countered, placing a soft kiss on her lips, “nor is it just a name I want to give to formalise our relationship. There are some things I do for love, and this, my lady, would be the most significant of them so far.”

Brienne smiled into his lips, throwing her arms around his neck. “The last time you did something for love, it was probably for your sister.”

“I’m a different person now,” he whispered, peppering her face with sweet little kisses, “and more importantly, in love with a different person, and so are you, wench.”

“No arguments from me about that,” she agreed, working fervently to take his shirt off as she wondered when exactly Jaime had managed to replace Renly in her heart. Not one to be left behind, he too began peeling off the various layers of her clothing until she was left in nothing but her breeches and her shirt.

“Will you marry me?” he asked again, kissing her deeply and passionately. He let go of her, proceeding to unlace her shirt at an agonisingly slow pace, leaving her breathing heavily with impatience, her frustration rising with every passing second. Once she was naked above the waist, he slid his hand down to her breeches while fixing his lustful gaze on her chest. He let his eyes wander, licking his lips in anticipation. 

“You’ll have to wait to get an answer to that,” she said hoarsely, the ache between her legs mounting with the growing desire in his eyes. Her haste to get to him sooner led to her pulling down his trousers while he began to work frantically on hers.

“I hope not for too long,” he growled, pushing her down and pinning her to the mattress with his weight.

They put up a struggle against their clothes, he, to kick away his pants which were now bunched at his ankles, and she, to completely rid herself of hers. When they’d eventually succeeded, their garments lay discarded, somewhere at the foot of the bed, to be forgotten and unused until dawn.

When Jaime had blown out the candle, she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer. When he claimed her lips again, all that had transpired through the day flew off her mind - Tyrion, Sansa, Tormund, Pod, all of them, the conversations she’d had with them - everything was forgotten. The only thing that possessed her mind, body and soul was Jaime, the sole occupant of her very being, her whole damn consciousness. The only thing she was aware of was that he was naked on top of her, and she lay under him, unclothed. The only truth, she realized, was that she’d soon be his wife, and this would be the wonderful way they’d spend each night--fucking-- _no_ , she corrected herself at once, _making love to each other_ , conceiving their heirs, building their future and setting their love in stone with their beautiful union.

“I’m yours, Jaime,” she gasped as he began pounding wildly into her, his mouth busy, wandering all over her skin, “your wife, until the day I cease to exist.” Her last few words turned into a helpless scream as she writhed under him, attuned to his rhythm when he intensified his thrusts, her body rocking and reeling under the tremors his sweet torture was subjecting it to.

“And I love you, my lady,” he breathed into her chest, heightening his pace with every move as he plundered her mercilessly, reducing them to a tangled mess of sweaty limbs, “I always will, even after I cease to exist.”

 _There are no men like him,_ Brienne wholeheartedly agreed, her passion and her aching need for him driving her insane when he took her for the second night in a row, _only him._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and do let me know if you liked it!


End file.
